


Swallow My Sin

by TheCookieOfDoom



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous AU, Consensual Sex, M/M, PWP, RACK - Freeform, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 20:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11425737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCookieOfDoom/pseuds/TheCookieOfDoom
Summary: Jon was many things, and he liked to think a good man was one of them. Just, honorable.Ramsay was many things, and he knew a good man wasn’t one of them. Treacherous, toxic.They brought out the worst in each other.





	Swallow My Sin

Jon was many things, and he liked to think a good man was one of them. Just, honorable. Ramsay was many things, and he knew a good man wasn’t one of them. Treacherous, toxic. They brought out the worst in each other. 

Jon raked his nails down Ramsay’s back like a chalkboard, drawing scores of red lines etched into his flesh, leaving raise welts in his wake. When Ramsay hissed in pain he laughed, cruel, and when Ramsay’s teeth sank into his shoulder, he keened, back arching. Ramsay dragged his hand down the graceful curve of Jon’s spine, biting into him harder and harder until he could taste the harsh tank of copper on his tongue. When he pulled away his grin was feral and red, a wolf who had attacked his prey, and when their lips met, his kiss tasted like iron. 

Teeth cracked together, jarring and savage, biting at lips and tongues until Ramsay pulled away. He tore Jon’s hands from where they clawed at his hair to pin them above his head. Jon fought him, and fought hard, his lips glistening red and just begging to be kissed, as much as he begged with his eyes to be fucked. His desire was clear as the tolling of a church bell, even as he acted like he didn’t want this, trying to kick Ramsay away as much as he tried to pull him closer.

Ramsay bound his wrists to the bed with too tight rope that was rough around his flesh, digging in and rubbing him raw. They would be bloody, by the end of the night, if he kept pulling at them so determinedly. Testing the bonds to see if they would hold. There would be hell to pay if they weren’t, if he was stronger, enough to break free of the ropes. But Ramsay knew how to restrain Jon, to ensure he would never be free. He had him so completely ensnared, even when he wasn’t beaten and tied down, left so completely at Ramsay’s mercy. 

One hand wound around Jon’s throat, long, clever fingers digging into him, squeezing until he could only breathe in shallow gasps. Ramsay wanted jon to know that he was allowed only what air he permitted. He didn’t let go until he saw Jon’s eyes fogging over, glazed, unaware. Weak, he was weak. But that was how Ramsay liked him; like a little doll, prone and beautiful, with fire in his eyes, unable to even scream as Ramsay thrust into him hard enough that the bed creaked. 

Jon pulled again at the ropes, not to escape but to brace himself, hands like claws around the splintering hemp even as it savaged his skin. The headboard groaned in protest as he pulled, but he knew it wouldn’t give. Neither would Ramsay, relentlessly fucking him through the pain and pleasure until they swirled together into an intelligible mess of grey, no longer distinguishable from one another. 

He hurt. He always hurt when he was with Ramsay, bruises pressed into his flesh like a brand, the taste of his blood mingling with Ramsay’s on his tongue like the shadow of fine wine. He could never truly get the scent of copper and sex off of his body, no matter how long of a shower he took. When he picked himself up and cleaned himself up and pushed himself back into the shape of who everyone thought he was, expected him to be. He wouldn’t have it any other way, this temporary release from the stresses of his everyday life a much welcome reprieve. 

The pain gave him clarity, and focus, and the pleasure gave him a high, a delicious combination to be so focused and yet so hazy. Like he was standing on the surface of a lake with water so clear he could see to the dark, shadowy bottom. 

Ramsay was like the bottom of the ocean, hiding all many of dark creatures away from the light, and society. Jon knew he was diving too deep when he got involved with Ramsay, and now here he was, bleeding and damaged and screaming in pleasure laced with pain like cyanide. He was a glutton for punishment, had known it all his life, and even now he wanted  _ more _ . He wanted all Ramsay had to give him, all Ramsay was so happily,  _ gleefully  _ giving to him. 

Ramsay kissed him again, swallowing his cries and screams, devouring him like he really was prey, using him and abusing him. But not once did his hand stray to Jon’s cock, instead fisting in his hair to jerk his head back while the other gripped at his hip to pull him closer into his harsh, sharp thrusts. This was about his pleasure, not Jon’s. If Jon didn’t come from his rough treatment, then he could take care of himself later, unless Ramsay was feeling particular generous when they were done. 

He usually was. 

When he came, he bit into Jon’s plush bottom lip, tugging at him with his teeth until it was flush with blood like what already painted him like lipstick. All Jon could do was whine, pulling Ramsay close, quivering thighs wrapped tight around his narrow hips. Thighs that Ramsay grabbed, fingers fitting neatly over the fading bruises already there, as he kept rutting into jon like a beast. 

It was just shigh of enough, Jon teetering on the precipice of release but not quite able to fall over. He begged, pleading so sweetly with glistening tears streaming down from the corners of his eyes to dampen his hair that Ramsay couldn’t help but indulge him, nimble fingers wrapping around his cock to tug at him with harsh strokes until he came with a scream that would have the neighbors calling the police, if they weren’t used to the sound already. 

Ramsay lifted his hand, forcing his fingers into Jon’s mouth and making him swallow his own salty, viscous come. He leaned down, smiling against his cheek while caressing the other side of his face with saliva-sticky fingers, nuzzling Jon sweetly. Sex with Jon was better than any drug, and just as addicting, the endorphin high after something he could never replicate with anything else. 

Finally, he reached up to untie Jon’s wrists, working the knots until he hands came free, tingling from the sudden rush of returning blood flow. Ramsay didn’t give him much time to do anything, rolling him onto his stomach and pulling his ass up by his hips until he got his knees under himself. Ramsay pat his thigh patronizingly, pressing a kiss to his spine. 

“What’re you do-” He was cut off by a surprised moan as he felt Ramsay licking at his his loose, sensitive rim. Jon buried his face in his arms, spreading his legs as much as he was able like a wanton whore as Ramsay eagerly went down on him, licking his own come out of his used ass. His cheeks were burning at the filthy sounds, Ramsay’s hands spreading over his ass to hold him open so that he could get deeper, until Jon was quivering and oversensitive, begging for him to stop. 

When he did, he kissed Jon, and it was disgusting, but Jon let him do it anyway, kissing back until he was breathless and so close to passing out. He let Ramsay hold him, then, petting his hair, bodies tangled together into a mess of limbs and not saying anything. 


End file.
